Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Dominica and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Men They Couldn't Hang to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cluster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ice-T,
Gabor Szabo,
Y Pants,
KRS-One,
Fugazi,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Graham Central Station,
Pere Ubu,
Jacob Miller,
E-Dancer,
Brass Construction,
Bad Manners,
Sound Behaviour,
The Star Department,
Von Mondo,
The Zeros,
FM Einheit,
Tim Buckley,
Lou Christie,
Marmalade,
Magma,
The Kinks,
Gichy Dan,
Los Fastidios,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Fall,
The Cosmic Jokers,
T.S.O.L.,
The Tremeloes,
Hasil Adkins,
Janne Schatter,
Surgeon,
Magazine,
Kurtis Blow,
Bronski Beat,
The Searchers,
Dave Gahan,
In Retrospect,
Kaleidoscope,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Swans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Tom Boy,
Minutemen,
Blake Baxter,
Robert Hood,
Derrick Morgan,
Aaron Thompson,
Moebius,
The Move,
Patti Smith,
Scientists,
Arab on Radar,
Cybotron,
Angry Samoans,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ronnie Foster,
Tropical Tobacco,
Newcleus,
Monks,
The Smiths,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.